The world through her eyes
by Fantasia Komix
Summary: A nine-year-old synthetic human moves to Gotham to study the various states of humanity. Unfortunately, she has to find a way to make ends meet. Apparently it is frowned upon to work in a shady lab in a scrapyard. And it's a bit difficult using a teenage body. Who knew?
1. New to town? Got a job for you!

**Apologies for rewriting again. The story beginning did NOT flow the way I needed it to. Set in 2019, not in the 1980s. One year before the episode 'Independence Day'. Thank you to all those who followed this story through its constant editing. If you preferred the previous versions, I'll find a way to make it work out...I realized at I made the story move forward too fast.**

* * *

Wait!_ The room is on fire! It's not safe, come back. Come back!_

_I watch in horror as the building collapses, taking my friends with it. Then I choke as I cry, not because of their deaths, but because I don't remember who they were._

_The crashing crescendos into a blaring wail as the fire rushes towards my face._

_And I welcome it._

* * *

Gotham: November 4th, 2019: 6:15 AM

I wake up shivering, for the heater is broken in my apartment. Walking over to the winods in my shorts and t-shirt, I silently gaze out the window at the snow. Weather never got like this back where oceans from, but I'll adapt. Like always.

I go to the restroom and clean my facial features.

...

_Humans are so different than other species._

_It is so strange to be an outsider like this, but that's how it's always been. I may look human both phenotypically and in the DNA, but I was grown from oil and steel by a scientist. For what purpose, I don't know yet. The facility I was born in was raided, all the people inside killed._

_Based upon the information I gathered while crawling from the abandoned nursery, I am essentially an android, a synthetic metahuman, with the potential to be the shield that defends humankind from threats or the sword that exterminates it. I do not know my full capabilities; for now, I am smarter, more agile, more durable, and slightly stronger than many human adults._

_Since I wasn't programmed with my purpose, I had long since decided to travel the globe studying humanity in order to determine my purpose. For no living being should be left without a reason to keep going._

_When I stumbled upon my first word, "AIM," I was terrified when I saw these strange bipedal lifeforms trailing guns on my home._

_Now, my name is Ada I. Mark, to remind myself of my first word, and the destruction that happened after I first heard it. The soldiers, as I now know them to be, aimed this giant gun at the building and clicked a button. A missile flew towards my hiding place behind the wilted potted plant._

_If I hadn't crawled away just in time, I would be an unrecorded failure_.

...

I look in the mirror after washing my face. Glancing back at me is a nine-year-old female human with long black wavy hair and cobalt blue eyes against tanned skin. I am a bit leaner and more lithe than most humans my age, which is both an advantage and a vulnerability.

This is my first week in America. I had to move here when Queen Bee became suspicious of the CEO of Android Animatron Repair. The spies I spotted on the cameras I installed in the robot were close to discovering its true nature, so I hightailed it out of Bialya.

Anyway, back to the present. Stupid child scatterbrain.

I stretch my arms behind myself, relishing the pop in my joints.

After I get dressed, I slip on my watch and type in the passcode hidden underneath the strap. The disguise projects onto my body's outward appearance, giving me the illusion of a thirteen-year-old boy with brown eyes and blonde hair until I undo the command manually. It will work even when the device is confiscated.

Time to interact with the local population and record data.

* * *

6:47 PM

Holed up in the 'lab' nestled in the nearby scrapyard, I make some final adjustments to the shipment I was assigned. I don't think it is normal to let minors handle heat and sharp/crushing objects without supervision, but I need the money.

When I'm finished, I check the box on the slip of paper and drop it off in the inbox before stepping out into the bitter night, tightly wrapping the thin shawl about my even thinner shoulder with one hand, the other clutching the little brown umbrella tightly.

I should've chosen some warm state, like Texas, Arizona, California, anywhere else but Gotham. But nooo, I wanted to examine the socio-economic balance and the legal side of things, so of course I would choose this place.

Right as I step out from the scrapyard into an alley, the hairs on my neck stand on end, the cutting breeze brushing past like water. I look around, peering into the darkness created by the Earth's rotation away from the sun.

But then I remember a bit of advice I used in Bialya to show away onboard the Seastar: they never look up. I tilt my head towards the roofs, seeing a dark outline against the smog. I examine the said person, debating whether or not to tell them.

A light thud behind me betrays the arrival of a person in the alley. I turn around to see a boy about twelve years old in a red suit with a red-and-black cape crouching with his back to me. He turns around and pauses, the white false-eyes of the black domino mask widening in surprise.

I cock my brow at him. "Hello, stalker. What's with the outfit? Please tell me that you and creepy dude up there are the only ones here."

He looks at me, shocked for some reason. Then I realize why.

"Please tell me that you didn't think I wouldn't spot some man in a black suit off the bat. I mean, black is actually a terrible color to dress in this environment. I could see his outline against the sky. If you want some advice, I would suggest a dark brown, grey, or green."

Creepy person jumps down from the roof and lands behind me. I click my umbrella without undoing the Velcro, extending it into a full-length makeshift staff. Without turning around, I ask what their names are.

The adult behind me, whose mask I had noticed to be very tacky, simply says, "I'm Batman."

"Okay...so do you often wear a cowl that shows off the fact that you have little time to shave properly, or is this a special occasion? And what's with the capes? Unless they are durable enough for gliding, I don't see much use for them."

The boy in front of me snickers. "What am I supposed to call you, kid? I guess we're not sharing real names, so I'll say my name is Signal if you tell me your alias."

"I'm Robin. What were you doing in the illegal weapons manufacturing plant?" He grins again for some weird reason.

Since they probably would find out anyway, "That's where my job is. I design and build tools that make it easier to defend oneself. Hmm...so I guess that sort of business isn't common around here?"

'Batman' tests his hand on my shoulder, and I instinctively tense up. "I need to take you for questioning. This is not an arrest."

Hahahaha. No.

I spin around and knock his feet from under him, knocking him backwards with the sudden unbalance. He turns it into a backwards somersault, but it gives me time to run away. When I turn to get out of the alleyway, Robin stands in my way with a pair of escrima sticks, his face serious.

I bat away the weapons with my staff and knock him towards a wall. To his shock, I then run at the said wall and jump off it right beside his head, giving me momentum to jump between the walls and get onto the roof, where I make my getaway.

I lead them on a goose chase around town before losing them in the abandoned amusement park. That is some weird red paint, by the way.

* * *

10:28 PM

When I reach my apartment, I go past it and duck into a small shop. I stop by the women's restroom and turn off the disguise. Luckily no one spotted me except for this little kid who looked at my disguise strangely.

I walk back to my apartment (only a couple blocks away) and change into my faded yellow pajamas.

I say hello to the little brown kitten sitting on my pillow and put food in his bowl and change out the water. "Here you go, Scott."

Afterwards I realize that I hadn't eaten anything all day, so I eat a piece of toast with peanut butter and pepper flakes. The oil in the pepper is needed to maintain my health, and the peanut butter makes it tolerable.

Stupid scientist, making me dependent on oil. I have to eat a bit of pepper every month otherwise I get the urge to vomit. Much longer and my organs would slowly wilt.

I tuck myself in bed and say goodnight to the kitten before going to sleep.

_Red splatters on the peeling walls, laughter echoing through the desolate halls..._

* * *

**Thank you to these people for following my story:**

**Blooddoll1 (and for favoriting)**

**Bree45 (and for favoriting)**

**Gugubean (and for favoriting)**

**Ijustdon'tcare132**

**amakir393 (and for favoriting)**

**nico2411 (and for favoriting)**

**purple-stained-sky**

**Thank you to these people for favoriting:**

**CharlieFreemantheJumpererch**

**LovelySakura777**

**Please review and lens me your thoughts on how this story is going and how I could improve it. Danke.**


	2. Oh boy, my watch broke

**I looked back at the chapter and realized that Docs Spell Check decided to make some interesting changes...I fixed it.**

When I wake up, I can already tell that today will be different than earlier in the week, and I don't necessarily think that's a good thing.

When I stop by the workplace to get another assignment, my faux teenage hairs go on edge. The place is void of the usual creaking and groaning of out-of-date machinery. I get out my umbrella and peer around a pile of scrap metal.

What the heck?!

I nearly go agape as I look at the destruction covering the lab. Broken tables that were thrown across the room, equipment shattered beyond repair, and not a single shipment in sight.

Merde.

Right as I turn to leave, I notice something gleaming on the wall. Upon further inspection, I discover that it is some weirdly-shaped blade that actually is inside the wall. I wonder how much strength it took to throw it into the solid concrete.

I hear a rustling of fabric behind me. When I turn around and start clicking the umbrella (slowly, for I don't want to alert them to any abnormal characteristics), a brightly-clothed figure darts around on the other side and swipes my weapon. Rats, these people again.

Batman stands there in his unshaven glory, the eyes of his mask narrowed as he stares at me. I attempt a grin.

"Dude, if you do that too much, your face is going to get stuck like that. Which would make it easier to find your identity, so why don't we skip this business and you let me go on my way?"

I back up only for my legs to be knocked out from under me. I barely catch myself by putting my elbows behind me. When I look up, I groan at the umbrella in the hands of the Bird Kid standing over me. Seriously? Why didn't I decide to just get myself away?

Too late to lament the mistakes of yesteryear, or however that saying as I try to right myself, stumbling in the teenager guise, Robin Hood sits on me. Agh.

I pretend to try to get up, then tell the kid, "Yah know, you're pretty heavy for a preteen."

The said kid exclaims, "Hey, it's muscle. And I'm holding you down, aren't I?"

I quirk my bros at Batman, who is in the process of tying my arms together with a rope from who-knows-where. "Where'd he get the rope?"

Batman growls at me. "No more questions, kid. The only asking around here will be done by me."

Well crike you, spoilsport.

When he's done, he gets out a syringe and brings it towards the side of my neck. Yeah no, I would prefer not being exposed to the substances used by these people. I bring myself up and crabwalk (well, as well as I could using my arms) sideways, startling the small child on my stomach.

I make it to the door and scuttle out, then stand up and break the bonds while I'm out of their sight. I roll my shoulders to get feeling back in them, then walk back home and grab my things.

...

Scott perched on my shoulder, I slip on a mask covering my entire head and make my getaway. The kitten yowls at the sight of the weird humans, just like I taught him.

A high voice exclaims at the sight of the companion on my shoulder, startling Scott. I hiss as his claws dig into my shoulder, but I keep going.

The kid and I run for about five miles before the masked Blackbird stops. To be honest, I'm kinda impressed by his performance. Most adult humans, much less children his age, can't run half this far without collapsing due to fatigue.

I hear the whirring of a vehicle and barely jump out of the way of a black car, Batman at the wheel. Ach, hit a light pole! Stupid carfudging metal piece of merde!

I hear a crack, but I dismiss it for now.

What the word?! He almost killed me. Hmm...I thought he was a vigilante who works to protect lives, not end them. Curiouser and curiouser.

Anyway, I'm currently lying on the ground regretting life as I cradle the kitten, which is scared (Sweet Honey Iced Tea)less. What? I'm learning what is popular for the children my age, and what they watch is strange.

Anyway, I'm pissed off, if ya can't tell. I set down the kitten on a window awning and step into the street. The car comes around for another pass, and I brace myself. I really haven't caught a projectile this size before, but I might as well.

I hear Robin shout , "No!", as the black vehicle comes into contact with my outstretched hands. The friction of my feet skidding on the asphalt wears down my shoes, and I feel the hot material grazing my toes.

I grit my teeth together and lift the car, indenting the front as I bring it to a stop. Using one hand to hold it up, I reach down and quickly punch through the axle well, snapping the device within. Once the wheels stop spinning, I set the car down and run towards the awning.

Luckily the kitten is still there. I carefully bring Scott down and tell him to meet me when it's safe. He merps, then slinks into an alleyway, blending into the shadows and disappearing from sight.

I go into a clothing store and try to turn off the disguise. To my dismay, I discover that the mechanism used to turn my physical appearance back is broken beyond repair. Of all the days to be stuck!

Something rustles in the shirts rack, putting me on edge. Before I could return around, a pair of arms close in around my neck and start squeezing. My kicks and twists do nothing asides from making the person tighten their grip and pick me up, and I see splotches of red and yellow in my vision.

I wish I were born without the need for oxygen, but alas I am too close to being human for luck to take kindly to me. I keep my mouth shut to prevent biting off my tongue. No one's in the shop, so it would be useless to cry out anyways.

When I look up, I see the blank eyeholes of the tacky mask. Making one last grin I kick backwards and up. When he drops me and curses, I discover that my durability has been worn out for the day.

My head hits the metal belt rack, then embraces the floor. As my vision fades I flip off Batboy and Red Green something, saying, "Ya know, I migh know whoh yeh aww..."

VERY dignified, I know. And right as Mister hit-and-run stands back up too.

My head hurts. Bye bye. I shouldn't take a nap, but...


	3. Spark Plugs, anyone?

Agh.

When I come to, the high-pitched noises bouncing off the walls make me want to cover my ears. Wait. I can't cover my ears.

Why can't I cover my ears?!

Ooh, I forgot. Oxygen deprivation and head injuries can do that to you. Well, now I remember. Stalker Dude and Mini happened.

So. It's dark in here, but at least I know it's large due to the echo effect. Or maybe that's just me. My head should've healed by now though. Whenever "now" is.

Then I feel the strain on my skeletal structure. Hold up. I better-nope, it's broken. Forgot. Again. No watch.

I thought it was just an illusion, something to make me _look _like a young teenager. It wasn't supposed to actually _change_ me. Does this mean I am now a male, a teenager at that? Shit.

Well crud, I just thought that. Looks like I am different now. Usually I keep my nasty language to something other than English to confuse the sheesh out of telepaths that might be listening in. Or just to remember where I've been, what I've done. Man I'm thinking about this waaay too much.

I really hope this is temporary, whatever's going on.

I open my eyes. Okay, it is most definitely a cave, judging from the shivering smelly creatures on the ceiling. Is that where he got his name? Gross AND unoriginal, t'be honest.

As my eyes adjust to accommodate for the more subtle differences in my surroundings, I bite my tongue in excitement. Tech everywhere around me, all ripe for studying and modification.

I try to stand up, bending the legs of the chair. Oh, chair. Forgot I'm a prisoner for a second. Yes, I know he said he just wanted to interrogate me, but let's be real for now and assume this was going to result in the withholding of someone's freedom. Namely, yours truly, mine.

SO, it is metal, not wood, otherwise it would've just snapped. I twist my legs. Ouch. Chains, not rope, are what are currently binding my appendages to the furniture.

Not. Cool.

I proceed to bring myself up, gritting my teeth against the painful screeching of stretching steel. As I walk forward, the stress makes the metal snap, tearing into my calves. But my legs are free, so that's good. Some wiggling makes the chains down there slip, letting the entire bottom of the chair fall to the ground.

I lower myself to the floor and bend my legs in weird ways so my toes hook under the chains holding my body to the back of the chair. Push forward. Same result.

Flexing my newfound teenage muscles, I walk around the place. You know what, this is the Unshaven Center. UC. Uck. Yuck. There you go.

So, while examining Yuck, I notice some vehicles in the corner. So, unless these are just for show, there must be an exit somewhere.

I don't see one as of right now, though, so I screw around with the engines, stealing spark plugs and the like and replacing them with other bits. I don't think the cylinder well is supposed to have a computer key stuffed in there. Heh. Yeah, I keep random computer bits around for reasons you don't need to know. And watch parts. And other thingamabobs. Yeh know, for reasons.

Oh yeah, I'm supposed to get out of here. Scanning the room full of high-end materials and machines, I notice a Grandfather clock.

I haven't seen those in ages. Wow, wasn't there one in that one place I crashed at for a while before the natives shooed me out? I think that was five, six years ago? Man I'm old.

No I'm not, but it's fun to think things like that.

So, I'm crouched down and messing around with this thing since it is so different from the rest of the room, right? Opening the glass, looking at the time. 12:48, don't know if it's AM or PM because of no view of outdoors, screw with the time so it reads 6:39, play with the pendulum, realize there's someone standing behind me.

Oop.

I spin around on my toes, my eyes wide in apprehension, only to discover an old man in a suit.

Uhh, this better not be Batdude or I'm gonna lose it. That would be the most embarrassing thing I've ever experienced.

As I stare at the new person (or perhaps I'm new, but meh, I don't wanna waste anymore time thinking about it), said individual raises his brow.

"Care to come upstairs, Mr. Signal?" Whaht? British accent. Not the accent used by the guy who attacked me earlier. Not sure how much earlier, but earlier nontheless. Wow, I'm overthinking things.

Okay, most definitely not Batdude. he would've just smacked my head or something and put me in a new chair. Probably a "better" one, whatever that is.

I silently nod, my lips pressed close together so I don't insult him.

The man-okay, he's Double OO because I can, waits for me to stand up, his face calm for some reason. SO. He knows what I introduced myself as, so that means he is connected to the duo in some way. He isn't freaking out, so I will try to think that's a good thing.

I stand up, coiling to get the feeling back in my legs. Wow, I'm tall, almost as tall as the man's ear.

The man smiles and says, "Right this way, sir. Your lunch is waiting for you."

My stomach growls in earnest. Totally humiliating, but I agree with you, digestive tract; I am hungry. Famished, actually. Weird. Seems as though my biology was a bit altered by the device. Will have to look into it.

I remember my manners. "Sir, I'm afraid that the 'Signal' bit was a fun on my part. One of my names is Asa. I apologize for the miscommunication on my end."

Yes, I know. Asa is not one of my names, it is merely a twist on one. But hey, I look a bit more North European than anything right now.

AOOOO nods, then turns to leave. I take this as a hint that I should follow, so I do.

He goes to a picture on the wall and presses a brick next to the frame. I mentally snap the exact position just in case I need to use it. A door opens up beside the picture, revealing...an elevator. Hope no fires happen down here, otherwise I'd be toast.

The man steps into the elevator and gestures for me to follow. I do, clutching the handrail when I stop inside the box. Padded. Interesting. Where are the strait jackets?

No music, thankfully.

When the box stops, the doors automatically open to reveal a fancy living room or something. I barely restrain myself from just dashing out. I may be slightly averse towards confined spaces. Might be because of-nah, you don't want to hear my life sfory. Heh, talking to someone in my head, what a classic.

OOOO walks out, and I follow, looking around the place with trepidation. Who could afford all this and have time to gallivant around at night as the city's hero? Or creepy kidnapper with facial fuzz and a colorful sidekick that should really be sleeping at this time, you take your pick.

Anyway, so I'm looking around, right? Seeing the sights, looking for pictures and the like, trying to find any personal touches.

Bingo.

Oh s-crud, this is worse than I thought. Yes, I was bluffing when I slurred out that little comment earlier, but I really shoulda seen this coming.

By that time, we reach the kitchen. Oh, yeah, it's lunch, so it's midday, which is the start of the PM half of the 24 hours. Huh, isn't it cool how many things we got from past civilizations? I mean, just the number system alone-

Focus, teen brain. Heh, I could now say I'm a teen scatterbrain- NOPE. Stay focused, you teen scatterbrain.

Seated at the counter is the ward of Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, a polite smile on his face. That is really different from the kid I met earlier, all emotion and energy. Perhaps that is his way of releasing emotion, and now he has to bottle them up in everyday life.

Hold up, is that what's happening now? Pah!

I try to grin a little. "Hello, Mr. Grayson, is it? Do you perchance count yourself an acquaintance of someone who calls himself Cardinal?" Yes, I know that's not his name, shush.

The boy goes rigid, his eyes the only indication he's anything but a statue as they frantically search mind own. Wait, they didn't-

I bring up my hand in the pretense of rubbing my eyes only to find no cloth catching on my slightly-too-boney knuckles. Yes they did.

"So, how are you, sir? I'm Asa outside the mask." Upon further examining his body language my face falls. "Yes, I know. By the way, it's kinda funny that my bluff went this far. I mean, now I know who BR are. Now could you please tell me what's going on, or shall I instead come to my own conclusions?"

The kid (or maybe I shouldn't consider him a kid since I am younger and now we're the same age. As humans on social media say, #trippy) groans and facepalms. Why is it that humans smack their faces intentionally when they feel like they did something stupid or someone else did? Is it a self-punishment system or something?

"Bruce, I told you we should've just kept him in one of the off-site cells." Hold up, off-site holding cells? How many people do they capture at a time that they need to have somewhere to store them?!

Oh, he's talking to someone in the room. Since he's not in the kitchen in front of me, that means the subject of the statement is behind me. Let's assume this "Bruce" is Batman, owner of Yuck.

...should I watch out for retribution for the vehicles or something?

A hand rests on my shoulder, its grip firm in an obvious attempt at intimidation. Well, it's kinda working. The angle of the hand to elbow to shoulder indicates that the person is at least 6'1", I only 5'6". Huh, I seem rather tall for twelve years old.

The hand steers me to the seat to the right of Ro-Gr-whoever he is, within reach if I misbehave, I suppose. I sit down, silently pondering the different structure of my body from this new one I accidentally got myself stuck in.

The man pulls a stool over to the other side of the counter. More screeching. Why can't people just pickup the chairs, eh? Is it too much to ask?

Anyway, the fellow has dull blue eyes that one would pass over if not for the confused signals you get from them. Is he curious or angry, surprised or contemplative?

Questions start in three...two...one...

"Who are you exactly, Asa?"


End file.
